FEATURE
Steve Totin
MATERIALS
Wood
Location
Providence, RI
Type
Interview
Contact
Every design lover dreams of discovering work that stops you in your tracks. Steve Totin’s sculptural furniture does exactly that. As a sculptor who found his way to furniture design, he approaches wood not as something to be tamed into straight lines and perfect joints, but as a medium that can flow and morph like digital clay. This unconventional path lets him see possibilities where others might find constraints, turning functional requirements into opportunities for material exploration.
Working primarily with ash wood, Steve creates pieces that capture something remarkable between nature and technology. His sculptural furniture carries traces of geological formations and crystalline structures while maintaining a digital precision that feels almost glitch-like in its execution. Each design begins as a virtual reality sketch before being transformed through stack lamination into physical form, creating work that seems to belong to some alternate evolution of furniture design.
Though still early in his design career, Steve’s innovative process already sets him apart. Through layers of carefully stacked wood, CNC machining, and meticulous hand finishing, he creates tables that reveal themselves through intricate grain patterns and chairs that emerge like strange natural formations. His recent experiments with lighting and brass elements hint at exciting developments ahead, making him one of the most intriguing new voices in American design. In our conversation with Steve, we discover how this unique design language developed and what drives his continued innovation:
Martin Puryear’s laminated wood sculptures were an early inspiration. How has your relationship with wood as a medium evolved since those first encounters?
Since first learning about and being inspired by Puryear’s work, I’ve gained a much deeper understanding of wood as a material and how to use it effectively for sculpture and building mass, mainly through the technique of stack lamination. Wood is a dynamic and finicky material constantly moving in response to atmospheric conditions and its moisture content. Understanding these properties has been essential to refining my approach.
Beyond technique, I’ve developed a deep reverence for the natural beauty of wood. The grain patterns and colors have become integral to my work. I avoid using dyes or stains, preferring to highlight the inherent colors of the wood species I choose. Each piece is guided by these natural colors and grain patterns, allowing the material itself to shape the final design. Over the years, I’ve drawn on traditional woodworking techniques but always approach my projects from a sculptor’s perspective first, blending functionality with artistic intent.
You’ve mentioned being inspired by geological formations. How do these structures – from crystals to rock layers – come to life through your design process?
Geological formations, particularly crystals and rock layers, are a significant source of inspiration for my work. These forms naturally blend geometric precision with organic fluidity. Early in my practice, I became captivated by the work of land artist Robert Smithson. His writing and projects led me to explore the scientific aspects of geology and chemistry, particularly through a book by chemist and crystallographer Charles Bunn.
Bunn’s explanations of how atoms align and stack efficiently to form crystals influenced the conceptual framework of my block-stacking technique. I’m fascinated by how everything, from the smallest atom to entire geological structures, is built through these stacking processes. My work seeks to echo this natural order, creating pieces that feel both structured and spontaneous.
Your process incorporates VR and 3D modeling early on. How has this technology impacted your approach to woodworking, especially in achieving such irregular yet deliberate forms?
Integrating 3D modeling and VR into my workflow has been transformative. While I began experimenting with 3D modeling in graduate school, VR is a more recent addition. Before adopting these technologies, I sketched all my designs on paper and manually drew each layer of my sculptures. Now, 3D modeling allows me to create intricate forms and refine them from every angle with precision, using an Apple Pencil to make precise adjustments in a way that feels akin to drawing. VR adds another dimension to this process by mimicking the physical motions of carving, offering a more intuitive and immersive experience. The visual nature of my block stack lamination technique harkens back to something digital, resembling the cubic nature of pixels.
My work is now first designed on digital modeling platforms and in VR, yet it is carved from a natural material in real life. I love that my work crosses the bridge between the digital and real worlds, blending the precision and possibilities of technology with the tactile and organic qualities of wood. This interplay between digital and physical processes enhances my ability to achieve deliberate yet organic forms.
Each block in your designs feels irregular yet intentional. Can you take us through your process—from iPad sketches and 3D modeling to hand carving and final assembly?
I love that you’ve picked up on that detail. That intention has developed with each piece I have made, and I finally feel I have nailed down a process that creates the “naturally random” effect of all the stacked blocks to create each sculpture. I intentionally use blocks of random sizes to avoid a brick wall effect, which would make the pieces feel too rigid or architectural. Seam lines are limited to those created by the stacked layers, echoing the striations found in natural rock formations.
My process begins with iPad sketches and 3D modeling, where I design the overall form and determine the block placement. From there, I cut and glue all the blocks into sheets. I use a CNC machine to cut the layers from the sheets, which are then glued together in a stack to create the body of the piece. I then move to hand carving and shaping the stacked mass with various power carving tools to reveal the design’s organic shape. After hours of sanding the body of the piece, I finish it by meticulously hand-gluing all of the blocks of wood that emerge from the various points throughout the body of the sculpture.
Your background in sculpture seems to inform how you treat wood – more as a malleable medium than a traditional furniture material. Could you talk about this relationship?
Wood’s malleability is one of its most appealing qualities to me. It’s a hard material, yet it allows for quick alterations, making it highly responsive to my creative process. My fascination with wood as a malleable material initially came from the ease with which it can be carved. Woodworking tools are readily available and inexpensive, making carving accessible for beginners, and wood’s relative softness compared to stone or ceramic allows for fast and intuitive work. Wood retains its flexibility for adjustments, unlike clay, which needs to be fired to avoid breaking and become unalterable.
While appealing in its permanence, stone carving feels slow and methodical compared to the immediacy I enjoy with wood. I like working fast and responding quickly to changes in the form, which is perhaps why 3D modeling and VR have also become integral to my process. My organic forms and techniques also diverge from traditional furniture-making, which often prioritizes geometric precision and perfection. The imperfections and fluidity of my designs allow my pieces to adapt to wear and tear, making them more forgiving and timeless. I want my sculptural furniture to be used and loved, evolving with its environment rather than being preserved in a static, “perfect” state. This adaptability means that damage or alterations over time can become part of the piece’s narrative, especially with organic shapes that naturally disguise wear better than rigid geometric forms.
The transition from sculpture to functional furniture often requires different considerations. How has incorporating utility influenced your approach to form?
Transitioning to functional pieces of sculpture has been such an exciting move. I think the potential for creating functional sculptures was always in me from the start, but it wasn’t until recently that I fully embraced it—and I’m so pleased with the results. I’ve always wanted to make sculptures that can be explored both visually and physically. Sculptures are often deemed “off-limits-to-touch” objects, but furniture inherently demands interaction. I want my furniture to live in homes, to become a part of the lived environment, and to be touched, used and enjoyed.
Each piece is a world unto itself, with something happening on both a micro and macro scale. Many of my childhood playing experiences have resurfaced now that I’m creating this type of work. I almost prefer that my pieces end up in homes with kids because so many of my sculptural furniture designs reward getting down on the ground at a kid’s level and exploring them. For instance, the chair and a few end tables I’ve recently made include hidden surprises tucked underneath them—details you’ll only discover by crouching or lying down to engage with the sculpture. I love the idea of a child playing on or within these pieces of furniture. It reminds me of how, as a kid, I used to turn my parents’ furniture into imaginative landscapes with my Hot Wheels cars and Legos. In some ways, my sculptures and furniture are large toys for an adult-sized playhouse.
My goal has been to create work that blends art and utility while inviting a sense of curiosity and playfulness. Furniture demands a level of functionality, but that doesn’t mean it has to sacrifice its artistic qualities. By incorporating hidden elements and encouraging tactile engagement, I aim to bridge the gap between sculpture and utility, creating objects that are not only functional but also inspiring and full of wonder.
Ash serves as your primary material, with occasional exotic wood accents. What draws you to these particular woods and how do their properties influence your designs?
I have chosen ash as a primary material in my work, mostly for its affordability, neutral color, and distinctive grain pattern. Initially, my use of ash was born out of practicality—I relied on scrap wood and cutoffs to keep costs down and use materials that would otherwise be discarded. This early focus on sustainability shaped my approach to design and instilled in me a deep appreciation for finding value in pieces of wood that were too small to be useful for any other purpose.
As my practice has grown and my projects have scaled up, I’ve started sourcing ash more deliberately to create the overall forms of my pieces. Even as my needs have expanded, ash remains relatively affordable compared to other hardwoods, while still providing the clean, natural look I value. I never use dyes or stains in my work, as I prefer to let different wood species’ natural colors and grain patterns create my desired color scheme for each sculpture. The variety of natural colors and textures in wood has always fascinated me, and I carefully select species to achieve specific color combinations and visual effects.
The accent blocks that seem to “grow” from my pieces are almost always made from scrap cutoffs. These may come from my own projects, scraps I’ve collected from other woodworkers, or even small pieces I’ve purchased. My process allows me to incorporate wood in almost any shape or size, giving new purpose to materials that might otherwise be thrown away. In many ways, I joke that I’ve solved the woodworker’s dilemma of what to do with all the leftover scraps that accumulate in the shop. These pieces aren’t just practical—they’ve become an integral part of my designs, adding visual interest and a sense of sustainability to my work.
Your pieces feel deeply rooted in nature, from their organic shapes to their materiality. How do you hope people connect with your work in their own spaces?
I hope my work feels as though it has been collected from another world and brought into its new owner’s space, creating a sense of discovery and wonder. I’m currently developing a narrative for a fictional world called Eda. Eda exists in the liminal space between the physical world and the digital—a reflection of the process I use to design and create my pieces. In Eda, forms grow organically yet exhibit geometric and digital characteristics, blending natural elements with the structured language of technology. By imagining my work as artifacts from this world, I aim to give each piece a story, as if it has been unearthed from an unfamiliar landscape and brought into our world.
I want these pieces to feel alive, as though they are more than functional furniture. Their organic forms and natural materiality are meant to evoke a connection to nature while simultaneously sparking curiosity. I also hope my work becomes an integral part of the owner’s space, not merely as a standalone object but as something interacting with its surroundings. My sculptural furniture is intentionally designed to coexist with other elements, including art and objects already present in a room. I love the idea of one of my tables serving as a surface or a plinth for another artist’s work, creating a dialogue between pieces. This interaction enhances the environment, allowing the furniture to transcend its functional purpose and act as an active participant in the aesthetic and emotional atmosphere of the space.
Ultimately, I want my work to invite exploration and a sense of play. Its tactile quality, intricate details, and a blend of natural and digital influences encourage people to engage with it visually and physically. I imagine people running their hands along the flowing curves of a piece, crouching down to examine its hidden details, or using it to display their cherished objects. By embedding my work with mystery, storytelling, and natural elements, I hope it becomes more than furniture—it becomes part of the lived experience, a presence that evolves and grows within the space it inhabits.
You’re beginning to experiment with lighting and potentially brass. What interests you about bringing new materials into your practice?
Adding lighting and brass elements are exciting new directions in my practice, and I’m intrigued by how these new materials can activate different parts of my work. Lighting, in particular, has opened up new ways of thinking about how my pieces interact with their surroundings. With the lamps I’ve created, I’ve been focusing on how light emanates from within the sculptures, highlighting their forms and textures, or how it penetrates certain areas to create a sense of depth. I’m also exploring how the shadows cast by the sculptures can become an integral part of the piece, extending their presence beyond their physical boundaries and adding a dynamic, ephemeral quality. The interplay between light, shadow, and form creates a layered experience that invites closer engagement.
Brass is equally intriguing because it can add functional and aesthetic elements to my designs. I’ve been experimenting with the idea of casting brass objects that might serve as knobs, handles, or other structural components of my sculptural furniture. The warm, metallic quality of brass will work nicely with the organic textures and tones of wood, creating a dialogue between materials. I’m drawn to how these additions can enhance the tactile and visual experience of my work while also expanding its utility.
These new materials are pushing my practice in exciting directions, allowing me to rethink how my pieces function and how they engage with the spaces they inhabit. By incorporating lighting and brass, I’m finding new ways to create interactive and multifaceted works that blur the lines between sculpture and design, inviting people to experience them more dynamically.
Teaching has been part of your journey. How has working with students influenced your own creative process?
Teaching high school students has been a gratifying and inspiring part of my journey. I love working with this age group because it’s often a time when they’re beginning to uncover new or hidden talents. As they discover and develop their artistic voices, being part of their exploration is a privilege that continually energizes me. Their curiosity, enthusiasm, and willingness to experiment are contagious and remind me to remain playful and open in my creative process.
What I find most inspiring is their lack of inhibition—they’re unafraid to try new techniques or see the world in unexpected ways. Their fresh perspectives challenge me to think differently about my practice and push me to keep experimenting, taking risks, and exploring uncharted territory. Teaching allows me to share what I know and helps me reconnect with the sense of wonder and discovery that first drew me to art, ensuring that I never lose sight of the joy and excitement of making.
Now that you’re part of Providence’s artist collective scene, how do you see your practice evolving?
Joining the creative community in Providence has been an invigorating experience. Since graduating from MICA, I’ve deeply missed being part of a vibrant, supportive artistic community. Coming from a background more rooted in sculpture and studio art than traditional furniture design, transitioning into sculptural furniture has been both challenging and rewarding.
Providence’s growing and evolving artist collective has provided a welcoming space to refine my practice and expand my perspective. The diversity of creative minds here has been inspiring, and the collaborative energy within the community has already had a significant impact on my work. The exchange of ideas and the encouragement I’ve received have pushed me to experiment more and explore the intersection of art, design, and functionality in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
I’m excited to see where my journey in this community will take me next. I feel energized by the possibilities ahead—whether it’s collaborating with fellow artists, experimenting with new materials, or further blurring the lines between sculpture and design. The support I’ve found here is not just about gaining technical skills but about nurturing a sense of belonging and community, and I’m eager to see how it all influences my practice.
